I Built Myself a Castle
by lielabell
Summary: Here's the thing. Sam's gay. Well, not gay gay. He's not into musicals or fashion or shopping or shoes. But he's definitely into guys.


"This is so not happening," Sam says in complete disbelief.

Quinn gives his hand a little, reassuring squeeze. "I'm not exactly sure what is going on either."

Sam drags his eyes away from the horror fest taking place in front of him and gives Quinn a slightly baffled look. He opens his mouth, but snaps it shut again. He knows why he is totally freaked out by this recent chain of events, but last time he checked Quinn had no idea what was going on. Which, come to think of it, is probably a really, really good thing. And now she's looking at him all expectantly and the hell if he knows what to say.

"I never pegged him for Team Gay either," Artie puts in, saving Sam from having to answer that questioning look Quinn's shooting his way.

Kurt leans over Sam's shoulder. "That's because he's not."

"Um," Quinn glances at the scene in the center of the room and then back at Kurt. "He's kind of sucking on another guy's face at the moment."

"Doesn't make him gay," Brittany chimes in.

"He's _kissing_ a guy," Quinn repeats, her you're-super-stupid face firmly in place.

Sam opens his mouth again, because clearly he didn't fully grasp that there was nothing he could say right now that wouldn't be a terrible idea, but is saved from himself when Rachel lets out a high pitched, "Oh my god."

Everyone in the practice room stops staring at the two boys macking on each other long enough to look at her and she flushes. "I'm not homophobic," she mutters as she slinks into the room shamefacedly. "I have two gay fathers."

"What?" Finn asks, entering after her. He stops in his tracks once he sees what's going on, jaw dropping. Then he glances at Kurt and his expression darkens. "What the fuck. Puck, why is your hand down my brother's boyfriend's pants?"

Kurt springs up from his seat. "Not my boyfriend. No harm, no foul."

"Not your boyfriend?" Finn snorts. "Then why were you all but dry humping him last weekend?"

Santana lets out a groan. "Why is everyone in this club such massive over-sharers?"

"He's not my boyfriend, no matter what you might have seen." Kurt brushes his hair off of his face. "And we were not _dry humping_."

"Maybe that's why he's not your boyfriend anymore," Brittany says and Kurt gives her a look that ought to singe her skin.

"Finn, why are you blocking the door?" Mr. Shue asks and Finn reluctantly moves aside. "Thank you, now listen up..." He trails off as he sees what Finn was blocking. Mr. Shue squinches his eyes shut, a wince clearly visible on his face. Then he opens them again and says, "Okay boys, that's enough," in his I'm-being-reasonable-right-now-but-soon-it's-dentition-time voice.

Puck and Blaine reluctantly pull apart. Puck's swollen lips curve up into a wicked little smile. "I'm sorry," he says as Blaine surreptitiously tucks his shirt back into his pants. "He seduced me with 'Take My Breath Away.' No one can resist that. Not even the Puckster."

Mercedes nods. "Word."

Mr Shue shakes his head. "I don't care what he sang, that sort of behavior is not acceptable. None of your teammates want to see that."

"Actually, it was pretty hot," Tina says and the rest of the girls, including Quinn, nod. Sam gives Quinn another baffled look and she shrugs.

"That is not helpful," Mr. Shue says between gritted teeth. Then his eyes narrow. "Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" he asks Blaine.

"I am in school," Blaine answers with one of his famous disarming smiles.

Mr. Shue, Sam notices, is not in any way charmed. "You know what I meant."

Blaine tugs on his lapels. "I'm on lunch," he says blithely. "And now I really must be getting back. So," he shoots that same smile at Puck, whose eyes go all soft much to Sam's dismay, "call me later, yeah?"

Puck nods, Blaine leaves and Sam spends the rest of Glee practice wondering how is life has managed to turn into the world's biggest clusterfuck.

* * *

Now, to really understand all of this, you sort of got to know a little bit of history. Sam's history. The history that he made a massive point of not sharing with anyone because... well. It made sense at the time. But, like everyone who tries to pretend that the past doesn't exist, Sam's history has totally managed to repeat itself.

Here's the thing. Sam's gay. Well, not _gay_ gay. He's not into musicals or fashion or shopping or shoes. But he's definitely into guys. And that's sort of a problem. Because Sam wants to get through high school with as little drama as possible. And going around making out with guys? Yeah. That's a shit ton of drama just waiting to happen.

So Sam's totally in the closet.

He doesn't have a problem with this _at all_. In fact, he's super happy to be in there and while, yes, someday he wants to come out, that day probably won't be until he's out of college and even then he's not going to do a song and dance about it. He'll just have a quiet little life in a city where no one bothers to say "hi" to their neighbors, let alone pry into their sex lives.

Except...

No one he dates is quite as cool with the whole "in the closet" thing as he is.

* * *

"You can talk to me about it if you want." Kurt says, appearing from no where.

Sam startles and nearly drops the math book he is shoving into his locker. "Talk to you about what?" he gives Kurt what he hopes is a perfectly innocent look.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Do you know who my boyfriend is? Was." Kurt gives a little shake of his head. "Whatever. Point is, I _know_."

Panic. Sheer utter panic. Almost at the level he felt when Quinn said yes to dating him. "Whatever he told you, it's a lie. I never, ever did any of that. And if I did, I didn't like it. At all. So, yeah. Lies."

"You're really bad at convincing people, you know that right?"

Sam doesn't know what stings more: the pitying look on Kurt's face or the fact that he's right. "I, uh," Sam shakes his head. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Yeah." Kurt gives him a long, knowing stare, then lifts a shoulder as if to say "I tried." Sam smiles nervously as he finally manages to get all his books into his locker. He slams the door and makes his escape.

* * *

There is something to talk about. A lot of somethings. But Sam doesn't want to talk about them with Kurt, who he has made a point of barely knowing.

There are only two people at this school he would feel remotely comfortable talking to about this whole thing and neither of them are an option. Because he was sure Quinn would pretty much kill him if she found out he was only dating her as a cover and Puck... Yeah. He wasn't even going to get into why talking to Puck about it was a bad idea.

But not talking to anyone sort of totally sucks because it means that Sam has to deal with all his thoughts and feelings on his own and he is really bad at that. Really bad. Which is how he ended up in this mess to start with.

* * *

Sam takes an extra lap around the field after Coach calls it quits before heading into the locker room to shower, same as he's done the last two practices. When he gets to his locker, Puck is waiting for him, hair damp and smelling of Axe body wash. Sam ignores him and yanks off his jersey.

Puck, however, is having none of that. "You've been avoiding me," he accuses with a deeply unhappy look on his face.

It's not that Sam has been avoiding Puck, it's just that he's made a point of... Okay, so he's been avoiding the shit out of him. But Puck is currently getting all up close and personal with _Blaine_, so Sam doesn't see where he gets off on being upset about the whole avoiding thing. None of which Sam can actually say. So he lifts a shoulder in acknowledgement and tugs off his shoulder pads.

Puck continues his thundercloud impersonation. "Dude. Not cool."

"I'm surprised you even noticed," Sam says snidely, then realizes that maybe that was just a little too bitter for someone who supposedly doesn't care. He snaps his mouth shut and tells himself it better stay that way.

Puck glares around the locker room. The two other still guys lingering around quickly vanish. Puck nods to himself with satisfaction, then turns that glare on Sam. "You aren't allowed to avoid me," he says with that menacing tone of his. "We had a deal."

Sam rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Dude. I'm not avoiding you. I'm just giving you a little space. Like you said you needed."

Puck makes a disgusted face. "I'm not a chick. I don't need 'space.' I need someone as badass as me."

"Well then aren't you lucky you have Blaine around to be all badass with." Sam drops onto the bench and starts tugging at the laces of his shoes. They instantly knot up. Because his life is just awesome like that.

"Blaine's not a badass." Puck crosses his arms over his chest and Sam does his best not to stare.

"Then why are you with him?" Damn, damn, damn. Exactly what he wasn't going to say.

Puck smirks. "Because he gives good head and never leaves a hickey."

Sam's heart? Yeah, it totally just shriveled up and died. But he's not going to let Puck see that. No way in hell. So he shrugs. "I've had better."

"Yeah," Puck agrees. "You've had me." And on that line, he leaves.

* * *

And that is the heart of the matter. Sam _did_ have Puck. And it was totally awesome. Because Puck is A: super hot and B: super creative. And, well, Puck is also sort of his brain-soul-mate.

Which isn't nearly as creepy as it sounds.

What it boils down to is that Puck _gets_ Sam. He gets that Sam works out for three hours every day and freaks out over his calorie count. He gets that Sam reads comic books and digs cheesy SyFy movies. Hell, Puck even used to DVR reruns of Mystery Science Theater 3000 for him and then actually laugh at all the right parts when they watched it together.

And losing that sucks. Times a million.

* * *

"Can you keep a secret?" Sam asks Brittany, knowing full well that he is a fool.

She glances around and then nods, her pretty eyes wide. "Uh huh."

"I really wish Puck was dating Santana instead of Kurt's ex."

Brittany looks confused. "What's the secret?"

Sam frowns at her. "I just told you. I don't like that Puck is dating Blaine."

"Oh." Brittany gives him a resentful look. "I thought you were going to tell me you were a vampire."

"A vampire?" Now it's Sam's turn to look confused.

She nods. "Yeah, a vampire." She leans in close. "You never eat."

"I'm not a vampire," Sam says with a sigh. "And I totally eat."

"I'm on to you," Brittany replies, her eyes still wide and innocent looking. "Don't think you can bite me and get away with it."

"Why would Sam bite you?" Quinn asks and Sam gives her a pained look.

"Because he's a vampire." Brittany pushes up from the table and gives Sam a hard stare. "Don't believe him if he says his not."

Quinn takes all this in stride. "Thank you for the warning, Brit." She sets her tray down next to Sam and then settles herself on the bench.

Sam glances at her plate of greens and the little cup filled with oil and vinegar. His stomach rumbles. Brittany makes a cross out of her fingers and backs away slowly. When she is about two feet from them, she turns and runs.

"She left her backpack," Quinn says as she brings a forkful of salad to her mouth.

Sam doesn't want to watch her eat, not when he's on a lemon juice purge, but it would be rude to leave now. So he takes a big sip of his drink and pretends it's steak and potatoes he's tasting instead of lemon-flavored chemicals. His stomach rumbles again.

Quinn lets out a sigh. "Brittany has a point. You don't eat."

"I do too," Sam grumbles.

"Please." Quinn tosses her head over her shoulder. "You're worse than a Cheerio on one of Coach's three-day diets."

He makes a face. "I just care about how I look, is all. And I don't see how that is a bad thing. You wouldn't date me if I didn't have a hot body."

Quinn gives him stink eye. "Like I'm that shallow. Come on, I dated Finn and we all know what he's hiding under his tee-shirt." Sam opens his mouth, but Quinn stops him with a glare. "And I think it's super unsexy to have a boyfriend with an eating disorder."

Sam's brain stutters. "Are you breaking up with me?" he asks, his confidence levels dropping to an all time low.

She looks around the room before moving in close and saying, "Sam, are we even dating? Because last time I checked, we weren't holding hands or calling each other or making out."

"I've had a lot on my mind," Sam blurts out. "This whole Blaine-Puck thing has really..." he trails off, a look of horror coming over his face. "I mean, I'm stressed about football and my homework load is off the hook and I can't seem to figure out my choreography. I'm totally into you, babe. I swear." He does finger guns and winks.

Quinn does not smile.

* * *

"Word on the street is that Quinn dumped you because you don't eat enough to keep a bird alive," Mercedes says when Sam walks into the practice room that afternoon.

Sam blinks at her. "Yeah, that's not what happened."

She lifts a shoulder. "Whatever. You're going solo, right?"

Sam nods. He thinks about protesting a little more, but then realizes it's probably better if everyone thinks she broke up with him over that instead of what actually happened. Because accidentally outing himself, then confessing to cheating on her with her baby's daddy and having a panic attack which ended with him eating about three bags of cheese puffs _really_ isn't cool.

"Wait, you're single?" Kurt perks up. "For real? It's not just a fiendishly evil trick?"

"Yeah," Sam says slowly, swinging his bag off of his shoulder. "Not to be rude or anything, but what's it to you?"

Mercedes rolls her eyes. "He still thinks you're on Team Gay."

"Hush!" Kurt flaps his hands at her. "Private speculations are private."

"He's not going to start sucking your face off," Mercedes snaps back. "Are you, Sam?"

The look Kurt gives her is like a drop of distilled death and Sam can't help but smile. "I don't know, he is kind of pretty," he teases.

Mercedes' jaw practically comes unhinged. Then she turns towards Kurt and jabs a finger at his face. "Hell no. I'm not going through you being mopey over a straight boy again. I'd rather just deal with you being cranky over a gay one."

"I am not cranky," Kurt says with icy indignation. "I'm perfectly content. Happy even."

"Perfectly content, my ass," Mercedes mutterers as the door swings open and Mike and Tina breeze in followed closely by Rachel, Finn, and Puck. All of whom instantly start sending him concerned looks.

Which is pretty much the opposite of what he wanted to have happen. But, if he is honest, it's what he should have expected. Everyone in Glee was way too invested in each other's relationships. He lets out a sigh and sinks down in his chair. Beside him Kurt and Mercedes quietly snip at each other, but Sam only half hears what they are saying. The other half is focused on figuring out if there is the shadow of a hickey on Puck's neck.

* * *

Being single sucks. Big time. But Sam isn't really into not-dating any boys or fake-dating any girls at the moment. Well, he totally would be into not-dating Puck again, but that isn't going to happen. So, yeah. Single. Stag. A free agent.

Oh god. Somehow he's turned into Ron Weasley.

* * *

Sam is surprised when Quinn sits down next to him at lunch the following Tuesday. They haven't really talked since the whole oops-I've-fucked-your-ex thing and that is kind the way Sam wants it to be. Because, well, he feels guilty. Even though he said from the start that he wanted to be with Quinn on account of her popularity and it's effect on his social standing at the school, he actually kind of liked her as a person.

"Hey," he says when the silence has dragged on a little too long.

"Hey," she repeats.

Sam shoves a piece of spinach around his plate. "I'm sorry I was a douche to you. I, uh, didn't plan on it. I mean, yeah, I planned on dating you until college and then breaking up with you, but not the whole sleeping with your baby daddy part."

"Puck is magic like that." Quinn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shrugs. "And I can't really say anything. Not after what happened with Finn."

Sam nods. "It's like it's his superpower or something."

Quinn laughs. "Yes. Just like that." She bits her lower lip and then glances at his plate. "Are you going to eat that or just swirl it around some more?"

He lifts the fork to his mouth, chews and swallows. "Happy?"

"Not as happy as I could be." She give him that look. The one that means he's about to do something he really, really doesn't want to do because she really, really wants him to.

"Ah hell."

Quinn touches his hand. "You can't live like this, Sam."

"Sure I can." He gives her his best smile.

"No. You can't." Quinn returns his smile with one of her own. "Trust me, I know what it's like to live a lie. I know how it eats at you. How you just want to tell someone, anyone. And I know that being into guys isn't the same as being pregnant by your boyfriend's best friend, but there are definitely crossovers."

Sam swallows. "Yeah." He lifts his shoulders. "But what can you do?"

"Tell people. I'm serious. It helps. Sure, there is that moment of pure panic after you say it and you sort of want to cut out the other person's tongue so that they don't spread it around, but that moment passes. And it gets easier. Each and every time, it gets easier."

"Plus you get to get Puckgasms," Sam says thoughtfully.

Quinn lets out a laugh. "Puckgasms? Tell me you didn't come up with that yourself."

"Dude, I'm not nearly badass enough to have come up with that." Sam grins. "That, pretty lady, is pure Puck." His expression darkens. "But those aren't really on the table anymore, are they? And even if they were, I'm just not ready to come out yet."

"You need to talk to Kurt."

Sam frowns. "Not happening."

Quinn tilts her head to the side and studies him for a bit. Then she smiles that oh-honey-please smile of hers and says, "He's a good listener. Plus he's sort of gone through the same 'to come out or not to come out' thing. So he can totally give you perspective that I, with my baby daddy drama, can't." Sam shakes his head but she isn't done yet. "Besides, he's freaking out about Blaine and Puck. Talking with you about it might help fix things."

"Kurt's upset about Puck and Blaine?" Sam narrows his eyes. "I thought they were still friends."

Quinn laughs. "Yeah. They are. Just like you and Puck are still friends."

"Oh." That explains the slightly manic look that Sam's seen in Kurt's eyes lately. Sam stabs another piece of spinach. "Maybe I should talk to him."

"Maybe you should," Quinn agrees, looking very, very pleased with herself.

* * *

Talking won't change anything. Sam knows this the same way he knows the the sky is up and the ground is down. He's not the type of guy who talks to someone and has it make everything all better. So yeah, not going to happen.

But... Well, Sam really wants to get all of those thoughts he's been having about Puck and Blaine and the complete and utter wrongness of it all off his chest. Not that it will fix anything, but he still wants to.

So Sam texts Quinn and asks for Kurt's number. Then he half dials it, changes his mind, shoves his phone under his pillow and does a hundred push-ups. He looks at his pillow, then crosses the room and knocks it out of the way. His phone lays there, all black and glistening like a beetle or some other sort of bug. Sam lets out a sigh and picks it up. Then he takes a deep breath and dials.

This time he completes the call.

* * *

"You wanna make out?" Sam asks after he's been sprawled on Kurt's bedroom floor flipping through vintage muscle mags for about an hour.

Kurt lets out what can only be called a squawk. "What!"

Sam props himself up on his side and waggles his eye brows at the other boy. "You. Me. Hot tongue action."

"Um, no. Not a good idea." Kurt somehow manages to look offended and interested at the same time.

"Why not?"

"For starters, you're _so_ not my type."

Sam shrugs. "You're not exactly mine either. But, hey, we're each other's only option. So why not?"

"You really have no game whatsoever, do you?" Kurt pretends to brush lint off of his sleeve. "I thought it was just the girl aspect, but clearly you fail all around."

"Yeah. But I'm hot. So most guys don't care."

Kurt lets out a long sigh and starts rubbing his temples. Sam watches him for a moment, then shrugs again and flips back onto his stomach. He returns his attention to the magazine in front of him.

"You'll come 'round eventually," he says offhandedly.

"Oh?"

Sam didn't know one short word could hold so much scorn. He turns a page and pretends he didn't hear a thing. Kurt, however, is not about to let him play that game.

"I'm not that desperate."

Now it's Sam's turn to sigh. "I didn't say you were." There is a huff of disbelief. "Facts are facts, Kurt. There are only four sorta gay guys in Lima. And the other two are trying to merge at the mouth. So," he lets his voice trail off and turns another page.

"I know," Kurt moans. "And it's all your fault."

That makes Sam sit up and pay attention. "My fault?" he scoffs. "Mine? Excuse me, I didn't ask either of them to stop making out with me and start making out with each other. And I totally didn't have a thing to do with whatever happened to end the You-Blaine Happy Train, so don't push that on me." He pauses and frowns. "What did happen to send that puppy off the tracks?"

Kurt opens his mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again.

"Trying to catch flies?" Sam teases.

"Look, I'm not sure what happened. All I know is that Blaine did this dreamy acoustic version of 'Near to You' and then started talking and somehow I said I was okay with him getting the full Puck treatment. But I _do_ know it was on account of his issues with you. And that Puck totally wouldn't have been down for cheating on you if you hadn't been cheating on him first."

Sam laughs. He can't help it. "Um, hi. You have to be dating in order to cheat on someone. And I've never dated a guy. So, wrong again, buster."

Kurt narrows his eyes. "You're going to fix this."

"And there's my cue to leave." He pushes up and gets to his feet. "All the porn in the world isn't going to get me to eff up whatever is going on between Puck and Blaine."

"You need to fix this," Kurt screeches as he trails after Sam.

Sam nods at Kurt's dad and Finn's mom, then opens the front door. Kurt catches up to him and starts tugging on his arm like a little yip dog. "Get off," Sam says, shaking free. "And stop blaming me. It's totally not my fault."

Kurt gives him the dirtiest dirty look ever. Sam fends it off with a bland one of his own. Kurt opens his mouth, but Sam slips out of the door and tugs it closed behind him. He hears a muffled curse and what sounds like a kick to the door. He lets out a sigh and starts down the walk, thinking that transferring schools was pretty much the stupidest thing he's done.

* * *

It is _not_ Sam's fault.

Sure, he maybe wasn't the best not-boyfriend on the planet. Maybe he could have held Blaine's hand in public or at least not completely ignored him. But he had totally been a better not-boyfriend to Puck. He had gone out of his way to be extra friendly so as to not have a repeat of the angry blowup that happened with Blaine. And, yeah, maybe he shouldn't have kept on dating Quinn once he and Puck became more than just a one-off deal, but... Well, he was dating Quinn _before_ they started messing around, so Puck really should have thought of that first.

That's what Sam thinks, anyway.

And he keeps on thinking that for the next week or so, until Kurt sends him a really snippy email with the lyrics to that "Near to You" song. At which point his conviction that _he_ is the wronged party in all of this starts to slip a bit. Then he catches Kurt leaving the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes and bad case of the sniffles, which somehow doesn't hamper his ability to radiate icy dignity.

And, okay it's totally his fault.

Of course it is. He isn't sure why Blaine decided that breaking up with Kurt and seducing Puck was the perfect mode of revenge, but the whys of the thing don't matter. Hell, the fact that they were together at all doesn't matter. What matters is that Sam let it work. Sam let his friendship with Puck, which was almost as awesome as his make-out sessions with Puck, fall to the wayside. And that is just plain wrong.

Which is why Sam suddenly knows what he needs to do.

* * *

"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you and acting like a total tool," Sam says before he loses his nerve. "It's just that, well, you know I use to go to Dalton and all. And the reason I left was because things ended pretty badly with Blaine. He was, well, my first crush and sorta-not-really-boyfriend, uh, and it kinda freaked me out when you started dating him. But, you know what, I like you and I think you're cool and if being with Blaine makes you happy then, well, I'm happy to. Or something. Anyway, the point is that I'm happy. Really happy. For you and Blaine. And I'll even dance at your Big Gay Wedding. If you invite me. Which I would totally understand if you don't because of the whole previously dating the groom. Grooms. Awkward, right?" Sam stops for breath and sorta squints at Puck, trying to gauge his reaction without being too obvious about it.

Puck lets out a long sigh. "First, you are a tool. I like that about you. So I can't bitch too loudly about it when it bites me in the ass. Second, if you ever avoid me again I'm going to unleash the full Puck fury on you. It won't be pretty, understand?" He pauses and Sam nods. "Good. Third, you aren't going to be dancing at any Big Gay Wedding because there isn't going to be one. Dating Blaine was awesome and all, but I'm kind of over it in a major way. And even if I wasn't, I sure as shit wouldn't marry him. If I did I'd have to spend all Sunday watching crap TV and talking about my goddamn feelings. Fuck that."

Sam laughs, then sorta feels like an ass. "Blaine's not so bad. I mean, he did give you a hickey, so that part's null and void, but he still gives some awesome head, right?"

"Whatever. I can get better." Puck lifts a shoulder. "Dude, I thought you would be happy I broke up with him."

"What?" Sam's voice is high and squeaky and he doesn't even care. "You what?"

Puck looks at him like he's half as smart as Brittany. "I broke up with him. He's kind of the King of Gay. Not a bad thing, if you are into that, but I'm not. I want a BAMF."

"BAMF," Sam repeats.

"Yeah." Puck moves a little closer. "Badass mother fucker. You know any of those?"

"Uh," Sam tries to think of something clever to say, but all his poor Puck-overloaded mind can think of is that _no one_ is badass enough. And that he really, really wishes he was.

Puck makes a frustrated noise and grabs Sam's upper arms, pulling him close. "It's you, dumb ass. You're the one I want."

Sam's brow wrinkles. "But..."

"But nothing." Puck grins. "You won the boyfriend lottery. Don't question it. Just enjoy it."

Sam thinks that's a brilliant idea. Doubly so when Puck closes what little distance remains between them. The kiss is angry and hopeful and very, very hot. Sam moans and slips his hands around Puck's hips, tugging them tight against him.

"God, yes," Puck hisses.

"Missed you too," Sam says as he nips at Puck's neck.


End file.
